


we put the fun in dysfunctional

by daemon



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon Universe, Crack, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Emotional Roller Coaster, Fluff, Hilarity, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Ishbalan Character(s) | Ishvalan Character(s), M/M, Neck Kissing, Nostalgia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stolen Moments, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-18 07:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 8,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14848472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daemon/pseuds/daemon
Summary: The Life & Times of Roy Mustang and Edward Elric as they navigate life, love, and each other.(A Roy/Ed drabble dump.)





	1. no vacancy | alt-canon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [czar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/czar/gifts).



> (brewpub @ [cc](https://curiouscat.me/brewpub) & [dw](https://brewpub.dreamwidth.org))

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sundays.

Five years and counting, and waking up to the tangle of blonde across their pillows filled him with something too _good_ to put into words. Eloquent as he could be in meetings and public events, he became tongue-tied the moment Edward Elric rolled over and tossed an arm around his waist; sleepy mumbles against his chest made him smile, unguarded and _real_.

"You're doing that thing again…" 

Roy nuzzled into messy locks with a low hum, "What thing is that?"

"That _thing_ —" Ed pulled away to peer at him with bleary eyes, "—you're plotting shit and it's not even noon yet."

Roy smirked, that infuriatingly _darling_ one that made Ed's cheeks burn so deliciously, "Ed, it's 2 in the afternoon on a Sunday."

"Fuck off." Was the petulant response he got as Ed burrowed closer, pulled the blankets tighter around them, "You're so full of _shit_ , Mustang—"

"Language, dear, it's Sunday—"

" _Fuck Sundays, too_."

 


	2. yogurt | alt-canon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thought: "Imagine Roy and Ed arguing about drinkable yogurt in a grocery store. Ed swears up and down he'll never drink that shit cause it's so close to the dairy aisle. Roy has to repeatedly show him the labels to prove that no, it's not dairy, it is not a MILK PRODUCT, _calm down_ Edward."

"―It's _not_  dairy. This is not a _milk product_. Calm down, Edward."

"I'm as calm as a fucking cucumber, Mustang―"

They've been 'discussing' this for fifteen long minutes on their trek through the grocery store. Roy was politely ignoring the looks of various passerby and Ed was giving him a glare that could burn the very calcium from his bones. 

It was _ridiculous_. Roy was absolutely _tickled_  by it.

Kefir yogurt was _not dairy_. Repeated iterations of this fact had yet to convince Edward Elric, infamous advocate against milk, of the ever unyielding truth. Not even when Roy pointed out the facts on the label.

"…That's a lot of bacteria, are you sure this is safe to ingest? Maybe this is why you're getting old. You're decaying from swallowing all this nasty shit."

"If anything, I'm decaying from your attitude problem. Besides, the only thing truly worth _swallowing_  is your―"

"― _do not_  finish that sentence if you want to live―"

"Edward, that bacteria is not harmful. It's good for your stomach."

" _It's yogurt_."

"It's _healthy_."

"Fuck that."


	3. weakness | alt-canon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy has an unexpected weakness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought: "Roy going absolutely weak whenever Ed plays with his hair."
> 
> my titles are so original.

Edward glanced towards the entry hall when he heard the locks click and the front door opening in the foyer. As he listened to the telltale shuffling and click of boots in the foyer, he doesn't bother hiding the upward twist of his lips into a smile before he quickly hid it and refocused on the book in his hand. He'd sprawled comfortably on the General's couch, flesh arm folded behind his head and automail hand holding his book up as he read at a slower pace than usual, content to appreciate the information rather than absorb it like a sponge.

He only looked up again when Mustang appeared in the doorway, already halfway through the process of stripping out of his uniform after having abandoned his boots by the door. Pulling his eyes back to his book, Ed could see Roy in his peripheral vision as piece by piece he draped the stiff outfit over the back of his favorite armchair.

Between finishing one paragraph and the next, Ed found himself with an armful of _Roy fucking Mustang_ as the bastard flopped onto him after stripping down to nothing but his undershirt and pants. Groaning under the familiar weight of the other alchemist, Ed huffed an amused laugh as Roy nuzzled into his chest with a sigh, perfectly slotted between Ed's legs and at last comfortable even with the solid metal leg keeping him from the edge.

"Better?" Ed muttered, just barely hiding a smile as he switched the book from his gloved automail hand to his flesh one, and took to combing his fingertips through Roy's messing black hair.

A muffled _"much better"_ was uttered against his chest, hot breath warming a spot on his shirt and causing him to shiver pleasantly.

Smirking to himself and returning his attention to his book, Ed carefully slipped his gloved fingertips deeper into Roy's hair, the plain fabric preventing dark strands from getting snagged in his joints as he made gentle circular motions against the older man's scalp. Little by little, Roy melted against him, the tension bleeding out of his body the longer Edward kept up the soothing touches. It helped him as much as it relaxed Roy, an exercise in dexterity and fine motor control, this near-nightly ritual benefited them both; allowed Roy to truly let go the stresses of his day and Edward to keep the nerve connections strong between his mind and his artificial phalanges.

Secretly, Edward enjoyed the way Roy practically melted against him, the only weight on his body he wanted, rather than needed. How Roy pressed his ear above his heart and breathed in time with him as his fingertips traced new paths and lazy circles in the other man's hair; the quiet, contented noises that left Roy the longer and more thorough Ed's ministrations became.

He especially liked it when his attentions led to every line of exhaustion and stress in Roy's face smoothing out into something like peace, when pale lips curved into unguarded smiles as he fell into a doze, and when his breathing evened out into a deep sleep until Ed felt it was time to herd them both to bed.

Ed thought it was a silly thing, really; that Roy Mustang had an unexpected weakness and Edward Elric would be the first and last privy to it.


	4. scruff | post-canon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has an itch.

There was an itch.

It niggled its merry way from his hand, down his arm, up his shoulder, and straight to the forefront of his mind. He didn't want to move, didn't yet feel the need to put his book down and scratch it. Instead, his eyes slid from the diagrams he was perusing to his hand with a narrow-eyed glare as if the fleshy appendage had offended him— and really, it did. It _itched_. He hated it.

He glanced up at Roy next, where the elder alchemist was currently taking up the whole middle of the couch, focusing intently on a report Hawkeye had forced him to bring home for the night, and absently rubbing his fingertips into the tissue and tendons surround Ed's knee. Said knee was attached to his flesh leg, which had promptly draped itself across Roy's lap when the other had finally deigned to get out of his uniform and into comfortable clothes to lounge around in. His other leg was left to dangle lazily off the cushion, tucked behind Roy's legs and absorbing any and all heat from the other man's body.

Ed dropped his eyes back to his book and continued trying to ignore the offending itch until it became too much of an annoyance. Keeping his expression as free and clear as possible of any emotion or indication of the idea blossoming inside his mind, Ed lifted his itchy hand and—with slow, steady, _agonizing_ intent— rubbed it against the dark stubble lining the bastard's perfect jawline.

Roy stilled upon the unexpected contact—which is bullshit, he should have seen that coming from a mile off—and Ed only dared to look up when he felt the full force of that heady gaze slide over and fixate on his face. Ed lasted a full minute before the pointedly shit-eating grin nearly split his face in two.

Roy sighs, heavy and suffering, like this has happened a thousand times before. It has. Repeatedly. It was _hilarious_.

"I get it. I'll shave."

Ed grinned wider, if it were possible, "Let me finish this and I'd be _happy_ to take care of that for you."

The suspicious, yet thoroughly resigned stare that earned him was _perfect_.


	5. interest | alt-canon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It makes cenz.

It's quiet in the inner sanctum of the Führer's office.

There's a small round table in the side room attached to the main office, rounded by three chairs and set with a steaming coffee pot and one mug full of coffee filling the room with the scent if a perfect brew. He's alone, listening to the quiet, edged in the muffled white noise of the outer office and secretary's lobby, ringing phones and typewriters, the shuffle of papers and conversation amongst his team.

It's pleasant, he doesn't often get chances like this lately now that he's been sworn into office.

(From the secretary's lobby, a door slams open, rushed voices, and a sudden hush after the outer office door loudly bangs against the wall.

Then there's an uproar of voices filled with excitement and familiarity, and Havoc is crowing his greetings enthusiastically—)

Alas, he knew it wouldn't last long.

A voice, loud and rough, and so achingly _familiar_ in its intensity, calls out in the inner office beyond the tea room's door.

" _Führer Bastard_ , get out here."

There's a gasp from his secretary, a snort from Breda, and even Falman manages to catch himself before a knock pulls him from his reverie. Hawkeye enters and bows her head a moment in apology.

"Sir, you have a visitor."

Roy Mustang sips his coffee, and gives her a beckoning wave, and soon enough Edward Elric is striding into the room.

Before either his adjutant or himself could say a word, Edward is looming over him and smacking a handful of cash and change on the table hard enough to make the porcelain set rattle. There's a moment, when Roy sets his mug down and lifts his gaze to meet Ed's, that is so charged with _something_ that he's almost afraid to speak and ignite the spark.

But Edward does it for him.

Edward Elric closes the distance and as good as struck the match, dropped it on gasoline, and set his entire world on fire— lips, warm and chapped, pressed against his own; a tongue, velvety and slick, tracing the seam of his own and demanding entrance— a kiss to light up the night.

Roy Mustang is very rarely caught by surprise, and he tells himself this is the only reason he parts his lips and allows Edward to dominate the kiss until the need to breathe is too much they have to break away. Wide eyed and a touch flushed, Roy stares up at Edward (a very adult, very smug, very _beautiful_ Edward) and sees lifetimes in those striking golden eyes.

Ed smirks, slowly, as if he knows exactly what he's doing and gods, Roy hopes he does, "Paying off my debt. With interest."

In the background, Hawkeye is quietly herding his men out of the office, shutting doors behind them, giving them the room. Roy is trying to breathe, trying not to drown, but falling and falling and finding he doesn't mind it as much as he should.

"Why, how kind of you, Edward." Roy smiles back, fond and ridiculous, and so very content as he reaches for Ed's collar to pull him back in.


	6. hobble, not hoggle | post-canon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bedrest is for the weak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Fic where Ed is injured and doesn’t want to get any bed rest. Because I’ve been hobbling around."

" _Fullmetal_."

"Fuck off."

"Edward."

" _Fuck you_."

Roy stared at him with a carefully blank expression, but Ed didn't miss the tightness around his eyes and the way his mouth tried to stay in a thin line. The bastard seemed caught between wanting to scold him or laugh at him. Ed was brazenly standing upright in the study, a book in hand where he stood before the wall of bookshelves and stared down the General while the other simply watched him.

"Well?" Ed arched a brow at him, curious what he'd do next the longer Ed challenged him.

Roy merely leaned against the doorway and casually folded his arms across his chest. He did that _thing_ with his sleeves, rolled them to his elbows to expose his arms, the dark blue veins prominent under his alabaster skin. Ed felt his mouth go dry, and tried to hold his glare a while longer, because he knew Roy did that _on purpose_ , he _knew_ how much Ed loved that.

He knew how much Ed liked that tiny bit of exposure beneath the armor of his military uniform, and the first three buttons left undone to expose his throat, his collarbones, and some of his chest, god-fucking- _damnit_ —

The General waved his hand at the couch, "Sit. Now."

Ed snapped the book shut, "Not your dog anymore, fuckface."

The gleam in Roy's eye darkened to something _else_ , something _hungry_ for a brief moment and Ed swallowed as that smirk returned, "Sit, _please_ , then."

The blonde eyed him, cradling the book to his chest and turning with as much dignity as he could given the state of his ankle. "Fine. I'll sit. But only for an hour, I've got work to do."

As he hobbled over to the plush little sofa across the study, Roy pushed off the doorway, "We'll see about that," he said as he walked into the hall.

After Ed had gotten comfy and carefully elevated his swollen ankle on the armrest, Roy appeared in the doorway again with a fresh wrap and an icepack, and pulled a chair close. Ed purposely held the book up to his face to block Roy from view, biting back a hiss as Roy's hands gently unwrapped his ankle to check it over, then set about bandaging it again and pressing the icepack to it after.

Roy leaned in just enough for Ed to see his eyes over the edge of the book, "Better?"

Ed pointedly looked away, but mumbled his thanks. The smile that earned him was worth the twinge of pain as he pushed up and stole a kiss instead.

 _"Brat,"_ was murmured against his lips, and a half-hearted _"shut up"_ was pressed into his lover's.


	7. one hell of a fire | ishvalan au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a man with black hair and midnight eyes above him when he wakes, his hands are hot and rough as they wrap cloth thickly around his wounds.
> 
> (Or, bits and pieces of how it begins.)

There's a man with black hair and midnight eyes above him when he wakes, his hands are hot and rough as they wrap cloth thickly around his arm and leg. Beside him, Sarah is barking orders and directing him, and her hands are soft, warm, reminding him of his mother; her blue gaze is fierce through drip of red, a slice through her brow bleeding sluggishly and Edward wants to reach for it, wants to wipe away the blood but his arm won't _move_. Sarah is too lovely and kind to have red splashed across her, he thinks.

Pain, sharp and overwhelming, piercing as it floods his consciousness and Sarah yells, calling for sedatives, anything and everything. Edward blinks again as his head falls to the side and Alphonse is there, tears in his beautiful garnet eyes— his baby brother, so good and smart and perfect despite the dirt and debris coating his tear-streaked cheeks.

It's slow to register that his brother is pressing down on his arm, but just as he tries to look, the man above him is reaching a gloved hand out to force his head away. Those eyes, catching the firelight and gleaming like scattered stars across the sky— there was something _haunted_ about those eyes, lines of regret and pain carved in his face, fury twisted the curve of his mouth, and in his voice, a _plea_ —

 _"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."_ He said, hoarse and broken and _hopeful_ , _"Stay with us, Edward. Please—"_

 

Edward snapped awake as the brakes on the train squealed and Al's voice cut through the noise, "Brother, we're here!"

Blinking from behind his dark sunglasses and rubbing his eyes beneath the black rims, Edward gazed outside blearily as Alphonse stood and pulled their suitcases down from the overhead rack. Groaning to himself as he stood up from the bench and stretched out, taking his own suitcase as Alphonse handed it to him, Ed followed sedately, yawning as they stepped off and making sure his hoodie was pulled up to hide his hair.

Alphonse led the way out of the station and into the streets of Central, weaving through the crowds like they'd done in every city they'd stopped in; privately, Ed was grinning to himself under the bright afternoon sun. His brother held more of their father's characteristics than their mother, while Edward perhaps looked _too_ much like their beloved mother. Second looks were common for them, between his brother's golden hair and two-tone eyes, and his own silver hair and skin a touch darker than his brother's. 

Ed followed Alphonse all the way to Central's main gate, stuck close to his brother as they were allowed entry and directed to the examination halls. There was, however, one last stop on their way in. Alphonse took a left and Ed slid off his hood as they approached the offices in question, a smile on his brother's face as he knocked before entering. 

Before Alphonse could stop him, before Havoc or Breda or Fuery could finish their greetings, Edward was across the room and kicking open the inner office door with a wide, daring grin.

"Good afternoon, Colonel Bastard."

Across the room, Roy Mustang looked up from his paperwork piles as Hawkeye left his side and retreated to the outer office. Ed didn't miss the briefest curl of her lips as she passed him and shut the door behind her.

Mustang merely watched him, fine black brow rising on his forehead as Ed approached and slapped some paperwork on his desk.

"Sign it."

Mustang glanced at the paperwork, obviously seeing the bold script across the top of the page, and finally slid his currently pile away to pull it towards himself.

"With pleasure, Edward."

" _Fuck you_."

 

Hawkeye returned after, both to check up on him and to inform him that both Elrics passed their exams with flying colors. Literally. He was especially amused by Edward's particular stunt with the Führer, but he couldn't let it show; from the quick way Hawkeye dropped another round of paperwork in front of him, she knew regardless.

"You knew." Riza intoned, taking up station at his shoulder.

Roy allowed one tiny smile, "Of course. Don't you remember?"

"I remember seeing a child, sir, lost in his grief."

"Oh?" Roy looked up at her, glee dancing in his eyes, "I remember seeing _fire_ , lieutenant."

He looked back towards the outer office, where the Elric brothers were distracting his team from their work quite thoroughly with their small celebration.

"Some fires we must cultivate."


	8. when the lights go down | ishvalan au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _And when the lights go down/Is there something in the air there but never there?/The lights go down holding every memory close/Tonight is for our ghosts_ "
> 
> (Or, sometime in the future, Roy faces the shadows of his flames.)

He's alone in the study when the fire crackles in a way that catches him off-guard.

The scent takes him, a memory resurfaces and the _faces_ begin to flood his mind. Here in the orange light, his ghosts have come to visit him. He doesn't try to stop them, doesn't attempt to stem the flow or throw up his mental blocks, he lets them comes. He has no right to deny them, he can't force them back when they have as much right to the light of his days, if not more than he does.

The scars on his hands throb with phantom pains as he grips the mantle with one and his other claws at his hair; he tries to breathe through it, chokes through the remembered taste of ash and the acrid, overwhelming smell of bodies and char. He still refuses to fight it, because he knows he has to face this, live with this, _survive_ through this for them. He gags and his knees nearly buckle under the weight of old sins and the dead he carries in his heart. 

He feels the sting of tears in his eyes as his heart runs ragged in his chest, alternating between fluttering and raging in his ribcage; and gods how he wants to pry open his bones and let it free as wave after wave of _grief_ and _fear_ and _hatred_ and―

He can't _breathe_ , he can't _breathe_ , it's _too_ _hot_ , it's _too_ _thick_ , _he can't see_ ―

_"Hey."_

His head snaps up faster than his ungloved fingers can snap out of habit and there is Edward standing in the doorway. Fire dances in his garnet and gold eyes as that gaze tears him down and builds him up again, silver bangs turned burnt gold in the firelight and hands clenched at his sides in a rare show of restraint.

"Edward―"

In three long strides, Edward is at his side and pulling him down to the rug in front of the fireplace and entwining their hands. He doesn't say a word, doesn't condemn him or berate him, simply watches him and holds his gaze as firmly as he holds Roy's hands. He takes it in, focuses on the myriad of scars across Ed's skin (some he'd been there for, others he'd only heard of or read about in reports), streaks of pale pink scattered across the soft expanse of deep brown, nicks and cuts that he knew every story behind.

He can't help it, can't keep from breaking that iron grip and reaching up to free Ed's long silver hair from the band and combing his fingers through it just to give his trembling hands something to do as the younger man moves closer. Soon, Edward is moving close and climbing into his lap, cradling his face and feathering kisses on his forehead, temples, cheeks, chapped lips touching upon his own scars and remnants.

 _"Tonight is for our ghosts,"_ Ed whispers in his ear, his mother tongue both melodic and thick in his voice, _"But only tonight."_

Roy won't argue with him, he never does. So as the hours wear on and Roy lets himself sink into the warmth of Edward's embrace, he lets the flames swallow him until he's ashes to the horrors in his mind. Tonight, he'll let them lick his flesh, scour his mind clean, and rake his insides raw.

And when he wakes tomorrow, he'll be whole and get up again, and burn all the brighter for it.


	9. drunk on the honey of your kiss | ishvalan au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After everything is done, after the dust has settled and the tears have stopped, a little downtime is in order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompted: roy/ed+drinking night. 
> 
> A thing to note: the ages in this au are tweaked for purposes of the overall plot, but will remain ambiguous until I finish the main fic for this AU. The Elrics are in their 20s during this particular piece.

Ed didn't drink anymore.

Hold on, let's rephrase that—Ed didn't drink by _himself_ anymore. It had been a long time since he'd had reason to go out and enjoy a good drink. Now, he had so many new reasons to go out and celebrate and drink over, and seven of them are present at the large booth table they'd all managed to squeeze into. Al was on his way (Ed vaguely remembered him saying something about needing to pick up a _surprise_ for the group before meeting them at the Madam's new place) and they hadn't yet fallen into their usual debauchery; everyone was still nursing their first choices of the night and Chris Mustang was clearly waiting in the wings for the moment to descend upon them with more alcohol.

Across from him, having stolen the other end seat like himself, was Hawkeye with a glass of ice water in front of her, and her dark gaze sweeping the room at intervals before returning to the group. She had that tiny little smile of hers, the private one saved for get-togethers like this; Ed figured it was similar to his own right now, edged in pride and contentment at having their closest friends alive and breathing and _happy_.

Beside Riza sat Kain, brows knitted together in thought as he perused the appetizers in the hopes of finding something for everyone to share; next to Kain, Vato was in a heated debate with Heymans that Ed had only half-listened to before tuning out completely, and Jean was tossing in his two cents every few minutes. And at last, seated quietly between Jean and Ed, and more relaxed than Ed had ever seen him, was Roy.

The Brigadier General had removed his gloves, the healing scars of his array were still prominent against his pale skin and he'd been careful so far not to let anything touch the backs of his hands. He was smiling though, at ease and certainly looking like he belonged here. Several times so far, their eyes had met, and Ed couldn't tear his own away from the depths of that gaze, nor could he stop himself from glancing at Roy's smiling mouth every so often.

Luckily, he was saved from further embarrassing himself by Alphonse arriving with Sarah and Winry, and somehow the Rockbell women managed to squeeze into the fray after Riza vacated her spot to pull up a chair instead. That is, until Al plopped a heavy bag on the table, asked Riza to guard it and ran off to the bar to sweet-talk Chris into giving him more glasses for their table. When Al returned with a tray of empty whiskey glasses, he popped open the first bottle and the minute he did, Ed caught whiff of the liquor and his eyes widened.

"Al, did you—"

Alphonse grinned, red eyes glinting in the dim lights of the bar as he started pouring and passing glasses to everyone except Riza and Sarah, who both declined; "Turns out, Granny had some stashed away that mom had given her."

Roy looked on curiously, "What is it?"

Ed took a glass for both of them and pushed one into Roy's hand, "Spiced liquor, usually saved for special occasions like birthdays, anniversaries, the end of fasts, weddings… Big stuff like that." He shrugged, a sad smile pulling at his lips, "It was hard to make and harder to find after the war started."

Roy blinked at him, then looked at the glass and cradled it between his palms on the table, "We'll have to change that, then."

Edward eyed him carefully as he lifted his glass, "If you can do it before you become _Führer Bastard_ , I'll be impressed."

The Brigadier clinked his glass against Ed's with a sharp smile, "Challenge accepted."

From there, it went downhill. Shot after shot, the hours went by in a blur of laughter and alcohol. It was one AM by the time Edward started slowing down and he cast a glance around the table to find Riza subtly removing empty or half-full glasses from the table and passing them off to one of the girls cleaning up the bar, Al had already disposed of the first empty bottle and Sarah was arguing good-naturedly with Winry while Kain and Vato hung onto every word despite their inebriated states.

What surprised him most was Roy, nursing his last glass and still looking far more composed than the rest of their friends. At some point, he'd shed his coat and military jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and was sitting contently, just observing. It made him nostalgic, to see Roy like this, without his layers of armor, without his many masks; to see those split-second moments of the man behind the persona, Ed honestly wanted to see _more_ of that.

A stroke of (very stupid) brilliance hits him, and he nudges Roy's side with a cheshire grin, "It's getting too quiet."

Roy arched a brow at him, suspicious and rightfully so, "Oh?"

Ed leaned over and reached under the table to grab the second bottle of liquor and set it in front of them, "Let's go."

Silence descended upon the table and the only noise was Riza's nearly imperceptible sigh. Then came the cheers and Heymans began taking bets, Roy chuckled, and while Sarah rolled her eyes, she still threw down for the pot. Chris appeared at his elbow with fresh glasses and a smirk so reminiscent of Roy's, Ed now had zero wonder as to how the man got it.

"Pony up, kids, this is bound to be riot." She announced, clearing the table of all glasses except two.

"Madam—" Roy tried, only for her sharp gaze to shut up him real quick.

Ed laughed as he poured for them each a shot and handed Roy's back to him, "Best out of ten?"

Roy looked between Ed, the shot glass, and Ed again, and sighed heavily, a man resigned to his fate, said _"so be it,"_ and took the shot.

After that, the team was reduced to a group of belligerent _children_ , watching their commanding officer and the favorite, _retired_ state alchemist going at the bottle like men possessed. But they matched each other, never once letting up; shot after shot, the two managed to keep their composure until they were both pink in the face and laughing like idiots.

They finished the bottle, and while Riza collected the glasses to pass off to Chris, Ed peered at her with a question in his eyes that she acknowledged with a slight nod.

"You never let him get this wasted." He stated, quietly enough that no one else would pay attention while Jean and Heymans argued the winnings. 

Riza shrugged, a tiny smile on her lips, "Sometimes, it's good for him to loosen up."

Ed snorted at that, and barely registered the weight of the other man against his side as Roy leaned on him and dropped his head on Ed's shoulder. They lapsed into a comfortable silence while the rest began figuring out the tab as best they could in their drunken state and Sarah began to herd a sleepy Winry and caffeinated Alphonse out of the booth. Little by little, their friends dispersed, until Riza, Ed, Roy, and Jean were the last of them left.

Ed was about to ask Riza for help with Roy, when he froze. He felt the tickle of his hair against his neck as it was swept away and smooth lips brushing his pulse; he felt his heart jump in his chest from the action and the warmth of the alcohol in his belly seemed to flare up all over again (or maybe that was acid reflux, one could never tell the difference when drunk). Glancing down, he saw Roy peeking at him through the fall of his bangs, and the enticing darkness of his eyes made his throat tighten and his breath felt stuck between his lungs and his mouth.

"I take it you're ready to get out of here?" Ed asked, a grin spreading just to distract from the heat in his cheeks.

"I was born ready, Edward." Roy mumbled, nuzzling against Ed's neck for a moment before sitting up and visibly trying to pull himself back together and recover any semblance of his lost composure. It was adorable, really.

One of Roy's 'sister's' appeared at the table, with bills paid and receipts passed out and to help Ed drag Roy from the booth seat, as well as hold onto the idiot until he could stand up straight. Ed stood as still as possible, using his automail leg as a steadying point as Roy's arm slinked around his shoulders and Riza led the way out of the bar. A chorus of farewells from the girls and Chris followed them out the side exit as they began closing up shop for the night and Ed smiled.

"This might be worth the hangover tomorrow."

Roy gaze him a dirty look at that, but managed a smile anyway, "Maybe. Perhaps breakfast in bed?"

"Perhaps," Ed shook his head and followed Riza to the car with Roy muttering about painkillers and hangovers of doom the whole ride home.


	10. these debts we pay in full | ishvalan au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment in time, where none but the sands may hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (prompted: things you said when i was asleep/under the stars and in the ~~grass~~ sand)

It was a strange thing to find himself out here in the middle of the desert, surrounded by ancient ruins half-swallowed by the dunes and an unfathomable emptiness that brought a curious kind of peace to his mind. The heat had waned as the sun dipped beyond the horizon and the chill had settled in with nightfall. The fire crackled and spit whenever he added something new to keep it going, having thrown in the last bits and bones of their evening meal earlier and allowing the scent of seasonings to mix with woodsmoke.

Edward had joined him at some point, sat beside him on his bedroll and left them both to the silence filled by the flames. Under the desert's harsh sun, Edward had darkened from his usual warm tones to a deep russet brown that emphasized the brilliance of his ruby and gold eyes. His silver hair gleamed in the firelight, catching streaks of orange and red from the flames, and every look Edward cast to the skies above him allowed Roy to see the stars reflecting like flecks of garnet and topaz in their depths.

Eventually, he felt the exhaustion take root in his own bones and he began drifting off as the longer his vigil wore on, and it seemed like it'd happened between one blink and the next, that he found his head resting in Ed's lap and a flesh hand combing tentatively through his hair. 

"Too fuckin' stubborn," Ed whispered with a hint of emotion that Roy, in his sleep-deprived state, couldn't recognize as Ed's fingertips raked gently against Roy's scalp, causing the elder to shiver under the touch; "You should have stayed in Amestris, bastard."

Roy nearly pushed himself to full consciousness before he noticed Edward was humming above him. A bit off-key to a tune he didn't recognize, it was still enough to send Roy dozing again. In and out, caught between a waking sleep as the princely brat continued to hum beneath his breath until the song found its natural end.

"But... thanks, I guess." Ed continued later on, when he thought Roy might have been asleep again, "For coming back to get me. I owe you one, Roy."


	11. return | post-canon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the 3rd. :)

Edward leaves often, Roy is aware of this. Perhaps, he is better aware of this than anyone else. The difference between Roy and everyone else though, is he never expects Edward to _stay_. He doesn't expect Edward to sit on the sidelines, or in a lab hunched over research experiments, or curled up in his library reading until they both die of old age.

No, Roy doesn't expect Ed to stay. He certainly _hopes_ —and he's a big fan of hope these days— that Ed might spend longer more than a few days or weeks here and there, but he's done well to keep his expectations reasonable and his hopes gentle. If anything, he knows better.

Roy is secure in the knowledge—because he has plenty of evidence to support this—that Ed will always _come back_. Roy knows above all else, better than anyone (save his brother and best friend), that Edward will always return here.

 _Home_ —

"Hey! I'm home."

Roy glanced over the edge of his book, taking in the sight of blonde hair catching fire in the waning afternoon sunlight, golden eyes dancing with pleasure, and a grin that was all mischief and teeth. Before he can even get up, Ed is across the room and bending to meet him; a hand curled around the back of his chair and the other digging into his hair, and warm lips reclaiming his with much the same ferocity as everything else Ed approaches in life.

It's freeing to be kissed like this; like the sun will come up tomorrow, like the stars will never blink out or the oceans will never dry up— like there's a whole wealth of knowledge and hope buried in his mouth and waiting to be discovered by _him_ and _him_ alone.

Which, in this case, is an undeniable truth.


	12. revelations | post-canon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth hits him, the future is bright, and he wants every single kiss after this if it feels like this.

Ed remembered the first time Roy kissed him. It had been different, felt different than any other kiss. There was something reverent about it, a soft, slow benediction to his mouth— as the other man guided them down the hall from his front door to a sitting room that he barely registered— Ed realized then and there that all bets were off.

There would be no going back from this. There would be a new precipice to for him to leap across after this. They scaled these rocky cliffs together over the years and _now_ —

Now, Ed had felt like he was _falling_ _up_. Not into an abyss, not into an unfathomable depth of his own personal hell—

No, this had felt like _flying_.

He feels the sky filling his chest and the stars in his veins, and ten—twenty—thirty—fourth—fifty years down the road he knows he'll remember this and every moment after until the day the Truth reclaims him—

and when that moment comes, he won't fear the end, he won't fight death, he won't cling to an aging life; he'll face it head-on, with a grin brighter than the center of the galaxy, because here and now there is where he understood what it meant to live to the fullest.

.


	13. we were the lucky ones | shamballa+brotherhood au

His own face looked back at him, eyes clear and determined, yet resignation lined in his expression. Around them, the Gate crackled and sparked, lightning arching dangerously close to both of them as they stared at one another. Behind him, Roy's flames held off the creatures, the armored fiends sent through that were far too similar to the immortal dolls once created by Father. More Alchemists banded with them, fighting off the creatures and destroying them with high-powered explosions and flames.

Roy came up and grabbed him around the shoulders to yank him away as one creature dove for him; on the other side of the Gate, his own self was drawing on the Gate's power to suck the creature back to the other side. Roy was always at his back, covering him, guarding him; surrounding him with flames just to protect him and ward off armored soldiers and creatures.

"I'm glad."

Ed looked across the Gate, at himself, at another time, another life; "What?"

The other Edward smiled, knowing and sad, nodding toward Roy as the other man turned around to face them both. Ed felt the shock filter through Roy, and the hand on his shoulder tighten, almost as if the older man wanted to make sure he was real.

"You found each other." Edward called out, "One life... one life together, that's all we wanted."

He gave a two finger mocking salute and a grin before he knelt down, "Hold onto that. You need each other, you'll be unstoppable."

He looked up, mismatched hands hovering over the array they would both activate to close the rift, and he was smiling again, satisfaction edged in hope; "Don't forget that."

"Like hell I will." Ed knelt down to the array on his side, "He'd never let me live it down if I did."

In the chaos, the gentle tug on his braid let him know Roy had heard that. He grinned, wild and determined, and his other self smiled back; the resignation clear, but the hope was in his eyes.

"I'd say 'good luck', but. Well."

"We don't believe in luck."

The other Edward gave him a smirk at that, "Let's do this."

"One, two—"

_"—three!"_

With a clap, a roar, and a fading laugh; the Gate collapsed.

.


	14. (almost) anything is possible in ivalice | ffxii au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that male Viera are not, in fact, a myth? Now that he too, has been enlightened with this fact, Roy has also learned they're a little bit insane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can bet 100% that i've got an ffxii au for every one of my ships and roy/ed is no exception. don't mind the funky play on their names, bc names in ffxii in general are hilarious.
> 
> and now, _bunny elrics_ ~~i wrote the majority of this at 3am don't judge me~~.

"Impossible."

The word was a breath of disbelief in Riza's quiet voice. In that moment, Roy was inclined to agree with her. They'd landed themselves in a stalemate, and he was very much aware of the daggers pointing both at his throat and his crotch, despite the flare of fire magick casting a harsh glow so close to his adversary's face.

A face that was very much Vieran and surprisingly _male_. But it was the Viera's coloring that looked even stranger still— they were both golden-eyed, pale-skinned, and their hair and fur was a shade of blonde he'd never seen nor heard of before. Sharp teeth were bared at him, pure malice and daring flashed in those eyes, and he found himself dumbfounded by one simple, stupid thought floating through his mind in spite of his immediate peril:

 _Beautiful_.

"Who in the Hells are you people and how did you find us?" Growled the elder of the two, shifting just so as if to hide the other male from sight.

"Accidentally, if I'm being honest." Roy replied smoothly, offering a charming smile in return, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance. And you are...?"

He could feel Riza's disapproval in droves boring into the side of his face, but he couldn't look over to make sure. The male before him was much too captivating.

"None of your goddamned business," was all he got before the Viera dropped and swept a leg out for his knees.

Roy managed to jump back in time to miss it and he just barely blocked the next few jabs of the daggers with his own kukris, "Now now, I'm sure we can come to an amiable agreement. My comrade and I are only here for a hunt, we have no further business than that. Perhaps some sort of truce?"

"Not a chance, _Hume!_ "

The Vieran jumped at him again, this time aiming a flying kick at his head and in a split second decision, be summoned a wall of fire as a diversion. The male yelped in surprise when the flames nearly caught him and he would have landed in the fires if Roy hadn't manipulated them to avoid him instead. It worked though, and the youth backed away quickly and took up defense of the other blonde once more. That is, until the younger one set a hand on his armored shoulder and gave him a scolding look before stepping forward between them.

"My apologies, my brother is quite rash, even for one of our own." The other male smiled, an odd thing to see in the expression of a Viera no matter what sex they were, "this hunt you speak of, perchance you could tell us more, and maybe we can assist you in navigating this Wood."

Roy eased out of his offensive stance and, keeping the other one in his sights, he offered a slight bow to the younger one, and a smirk when the elder brother growled as he approached to offer his hand, "That would be most welcome. My name is Roy, this is my second, Riza, and my crew, Havoc, Breda, and Fuery."

"I am Alfons! This is my brother, Edvar," He gestured over his shoulder with an exasperated smile, before continuing, "You wouldn't happen to be on a hunt for the elite mark roaming the forest, now would you? It has given many before you a difficult time..."

.

Four days later, one mark down, several healing wounds, cracked ribs, potential concussions and bruised egos, a very tired, yet completely triumphant group sat around the bonfire on the Phon Coast. Fuery had setup beast wards around their camp to deter any curious creatures and Havoc had successfully fished enough to feed everyone while Riza had made it a point to forage edible vegetation and fruits to pair their skewered dinner with. Their two new companions, the Elric brothers, were now helping in the effort to patch everyone up.

It was a good, clear night, with the moon looming full and bright overhead and the sea breeze felt good against his bare skin. He'd made himself a spot closer to the water's edge to carefully shed his armor, his ripped and torn coat, and finally his bloodied shirt. The shirt he could wash, and maybe stitch back together, but he'd have to find a new coat at the Hunter's Camp or wait until they could return to the ship in a few days. For now, he was enjoying the open air as he took stock of his injuries.

He knew the most basic of healing spells, enough to heal the scratches and sooth the bruising, but nothing more powerful than that as to heal his fractured ribs and the deeper gashes that still bled sluggishly.

Behind him, he heard the soft whisper of sand, the quiet shift of leather and clink of metal; and a second later, Edvar was in his peripheral vision. He turned his head to look up at the Viera and offer a careful smile when the other knelt beside him without a word or warning.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, young Elric?" He asked, trying not to feel on edge with the warrior so close and himself without his armor; despite their truce to complete the hunt, he was still wary of the blonde.

" _Ed_ , and you can drop the formalities." Ed began, knocking Roy's hand from his side to look at one of his wounds, "My brother and I left the Wood a long time ago and haven't looked back. We've spent enough time around Humes to adopt your uncivilized speech."

He arched a brow at Roy with an expression that dared the mage to comment on it and Roy wisely chose not to.

Instead, he leaned back on his hands and gave the Viera room to work, watching a clawed hand hover over his skin with a green glow and feeling the strange hot-cold sensation of magic seep beneath his skin to knit flesh and muscle back together. A hiss escaped him when he felt Ed poke and prod and press at his ribs to make sure they were in place before he healed those injuries next, and the bruises faded from angry purple and blue to yellow-brown and finally nothing but small patches of pink across his torso.

It was thorough and nearly perfect, and a credit to the power of the Viera. Roy felt that magic all the way to his bones and beyond, how it coursed through his body like water, healing and bolstering his strength. Fuery was good, no mistake, but a Hume's understanding of magic would never quite reach the level of a Viera's. His own, included. He was too fond of fire magic to dabble in much else these days.

Roy checked himself over after and smiled when he looked over at Ed, "Thank you. That was kind of you."

It was so strange to witness a Viera roll their eyes, but Ed did it with ease and with a such a put-upon huff, Roy almost laughed aloud at the display; "Don't be foolish enough to believe this is kindness, I'm only returning the favor."

Ed wasn't looking at him again, his gold eyes were focused on the ocean instead, and Roy sat there trying to remember what he meant. Then it hit him.

During the battle with the mark—a strange, Mist-warped dragon that had ravaged much of the forest— Roy had dragged Alfons out of harm's way and protected him from a particularly vicious attempt by the beast to eat him. He couldn't think of why he'd done it, only that instinct had driven him to protect the Viera in the same way he protected his crew: fiercely, without question or second thoughts.

"Regardless, it's still much appreciated."

Ed made a small _hmph_ noise before settling in the sands beside him, letting the sounds of the ocean fill the comfortable silence between them.

.


	15. (almost) anything is possible in ivalice ii | ffxii au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Skypirates_. Of course.

"You're a skypirate." Ed's deadpan tone and the flat look on his face wasn't as easy to read as it might have been on a Hume, and Roy found himself staring back curiously.

"Yes?"

" _Of course_ you are."

Al smiled weakly, giving his brother a slight nudge from behind to get him moving up the ramp; "It's a good-looking ship, Roy."

"Thank you, Al." Roy was still watching Ed, and smirking at the distrustful sniff the Viera gave as his heeled boots clicked on the metal leading inside, "She is indeed quite a lovely thing."

Roy's ship was a sleek little beast, fast and agile; with room enough for his small crew and sometimes guests, a modest galley and mess, and a hold large enough for their various types of cargo over the years. Designed by Archadian engineers and built by the masterful paws of the moogles of Bhujerba, the _Fira_ was a masterpiece of airship technology; with a cloaking system as yet unheard of and advanced weapons incorporating the use of magicite and Mist, she was one of a kind and his pride and joy.

In short, he adored this ship, almost as much as he loved his crew and family.

Following the brothers inside, the rest of his crew split off to their cabins for clean up and flight preparations, while Roy bid the pair to follow him towards the cabin saved for 'guests', or passengers that often needed a less conspicuous form of transportation between the kingdoms.

"—We leave in two hours. That should be enough time for everyone to clean up, get comfy, and be ready to cast off." Roy finished up, "If you two have anywhere specific you want us to drop you, let me know once we're airborne." He smirked as he turned to leave the cabin, "We'll be taking the long way, of course."

"Sounds like a riot." Ed grumbled, ignoring another _look_ his brother shot him, ears twitching with his irritation, "We don't have a destination decided yet, so—"

Al smiled brightly as he shoved his brother further into the cabin towards the shower, "Once we discuss it, we shall inform you."

Roy blinked at them as they went, listening to Ed's protests and Al's insistent muttering as the door was shut behind them.

_Interesting_ , indeed.

.


End file.
